


Without a Stitch

by shinealightrose



Category: EXO (Band), 极限挑战 | Go Fighting! (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-05-16 23:30:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5845150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightrose/pseuds/shinealightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhixiang (Show Luo) has a live-in boyfriend with an affinity for not wearing clothes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [London9Calling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/London9Calling/gifts).



> If you don't know Showxing, then you should definitely check them out. Show Luo is currently in the Chinese variety show Go Fighting with Yixing. They totally love each other, just trust me.

  
Yixing is a nudist.  
  
Well, perhaps that’s just a figure of speech. Zhixiang wouldn’t necessarily go around and broadcasting this little bit of a not-fact, but in a way it’s halfway true. Embarrassingly true.  
  
Yixing is his boyfriend, first and foremost. His live-in younger boyfriend who sits at home all day in his undies while Zhixiang works, composing piano arrangements and writing novels, neither of which he’s sent into for publication yet, but that’s Yixing’s thing to decide, not Zhixiang’s. He’s just there to help provide him shelter and a roof, and Yixing somehow affords to buy groceries on the remains of his family allowance.  
  
Some days Yixing even cooks dinner. But tonight is not one of those nights.  
  
The take home meal Zhixiang picked up on his drive home isn’t even out of its box. It’ll be cold probably before they get around to it, but Yixing looks so delectable when he comes in the door. Splayed out in the nude, reclining on the sofa, his legs out wide, one bare foot dragging against the carpet and a book in his hands.  
  
“Luo Zhixiang,” Yixing yells out grumpily, his lips puffed up in displeasure.  
  
“What!?” Zhixiang panics. Did he forget something? What could he have forgotten? The light bill? But no, the lights are still on. So is the electricity, which leaves possibly the running water? Or wait. “Was I supposed to call the piano tuner?”  
  
If Yixing’s precious upright piano isn’t perfectly on pitch, he won’t even touch the keys.  
  
“Luo Zhixiang, you’re home late. You said 6 o’clock, and it’s 8. I’ve been waiting for hours!”  
  
And suddenly Zhixiang realizes what Yixing wants. “Sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s because there was a crisis in the office, and I had to stay and take care of things and there was an emergency meeting I couldn’t get out of, and it’s not even over for the night. In fact my secretary still has to-”  
  
Yixing suddenly strokes his dick and Zhixiang’s brain short circuits. His eyes zero in on Yixing’s limp but already well-endowed member. It sits gently between his fingers resting upon a nest of soft dark curls. Such a casual invitation, such warm glad tidings, the sight of which Zhixiang sees just about every single day and who is he to deny that Yixing has probably been sitting there thinking nonsexual thoughts for two whole extra hours while he waited for him to get home.  
  
He shirks his coat and tie in a heartbeat, pins one shoe to the floor with his toe to pull it free and then the other. At the same time he barely avoids giving himself belt burn when he unbuckles that horridly inefficient device and whips it through the loops. By the time he steps out of his pants and panda patterned boxers and throws himself on the couch, Yixing is already moaning under his own touch, head arching back deliciously. Zhixiang licks a hot stripe from collar to ear and takes over stroking.  
  
Everything but Yixing’s dick is cold to the touch, and this is definitely a problem. Zhixiang wants him hot all over. He crawls over his lover and cages his hips with his knees. From this angle it’s a stretch to bend over and kiss along the side of Yixing’s jaw, but anything for his baby. Anything at all, and Yixing loves to be touched wherever Zhixiang’s lips can go.  
  
His cock hangs between them, occasionally rubbing against Yixing’s hardened form. Slowly he lowers his waist and slides his feet down the length of the couch. It’s a beautiful off-white leather couch but Yixing always lays down a blanket, in this case a fuzzy blue throw that catches all the hairs of Zhixiang’s legs, further stimulating him from head to toe.  
  
“Yixing, Yixing, babe, I missed you and I’ll never come late again-”  
  
“Liar,” Yixing whispers haughtily into his ear.  
  
Zhixiang gasps into the man’s gorgeous neck and drops his hips on top of Yixing in a singularly ungraceful flop. He moans again and Yixing pants deliriously, his hands clawing at the skin of Zhixiang’s ass. Yixing uses this momentum to hold them flush, grinding their hips together in frantic circular motion.  
  
“Show Luo, Show Luo,” Yixing cants into mouth, before Zhixiang seizes his lips between his and slips his tongue inside. And this now, is where he most prefers to be. Tasting Yixing’s tongue, legs entwined, hand on their dicks as their thrash around inside his most glorious apartment.  
  
Let other family members regale him about ‘keeping’ a younger man. They don’t know anything about his precious Yixing, they don’t get why Zhixiang is in love with him. And they most certainly don’t understand that this is more than a lovers’ agreement. Yixing is young and fresh out of college, a misunderstood artist with a banging hot body. And Luo Zhixiang is a thirty something business man, fifth in line behind his cousins for the succession - as if he’d want the top job anyways - but from the day they met, him and his beautiful Yixing, he knew they were destined.  
  
“Show Luo,” Yixing whines again. Something smacks Zhixiang in the middle of his back, a sharp edge of paper that has him wincing and thrusting down. “Condom, put it on, hurry.”  
  
Yixing’s voice is husky and undemanding, but there’s more than enough implied impatience. He pushes up and sits back on his shins while Yixing tears the package between one hand and his teeth. Zhixiang wastes no further time, taking the fresh condom quickly from his hand and slipping it on his length. He bares his teeth because his cock is already so sensitive and he can’t wait to slip it between Yixing’s awaiting thighs.  
  
There’s a trace of lube already there, Yixing’s earlier handiwork, but it’s not enough. He reaches a hand along the floor, searching for the bottle. And while Yixing watches he dribbles more out right onto his already stretched hole.  
  
Yixing’s whole back arches against the armrest when Zhixiang presses it in, two fingers at first and finally three. He contemplates adding his pinky when Yixing cries out rashly and jerks his hand away, the other one taking Zhixiang’s dick in hand and leading it to his opening.  
  
The first slide in is everything Zhixiang’s ever dreamed for. It always is, no matter that this isn’t their first time or their second, or even probably their hundredth.  
  
“Yixing, fuck,”  
  
“That’s the word, Show Luo, fuck. Fuck me, fuck me please.”  
  
So Yixing asks, so Zhixiang provides.  
  
This is the home run stretch, the climax to his whole day. The reason Zhixiang comes home with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face. Yixing is the love of his life and he’ll do anything to please. Anything, anything! Except…  
  
_Knock, knock._  
  
“Shit, someone’s at the door.”  
  
He stops mid-trust, panic setting in.  
  
“What?” Yixing pants.  
  
“Shit! Shit shit!” Slickly, unglamorously, he slides his dick from between Yixing’s legs and scrambles off the couch.  
  
“Luo Zhixiang, where are you going!?” Yixing yells out. His body is covered in a light sweat, face and chest and thighs and even his goddamn feet look flushed and red. His dick curls proudly over the taut muscles of his stomach, and it takes every ounce of Zhixiang’s composure not to quit what he’s doing now and pounce once more on top of the couch.  
  
Instead, he thrashes across the floor of the room for his pants, boxers be damned, and sticks one leg inside while he hops around on the other foot.  
  
“Yixing, I’m so so sorry, babe! Remember how I said there was an emergency earlier and an important meeting and-”  
  
_Knock, knock, knock!_  
  
The thumps on the door are coming in louder, stronger.  
  
“Shit. I’m coming!” he shrieks, nearly falling over in his rush to pull on the other pant leg. “Anyways!” he tells Yixing again, “There were some other documents left to sign and my secretary had to prepare them first and then bring them to get my signature on them and- Yixing, baby, this will only take a moment, I promise!”  
  
His shimmies the pants up his thighs and has another near relapse. His dick is large and heavy and in no way is it going to fit in his pants. He curses again and folds it up, praying his zipper will contain it and well, it won’t be the last time he was caught by somebody wearing the boner of a lifetime.  
  
_Knock, knock, knock, knock!_  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Zhixiang whips open the door and tries to look normal. His hair probably looks a mess, he’s shirtless and sweaty, his dick- well, maybe they won’t look that far down.  
  
But then he realizes he’s looking at a ‘they’. Them, to be precise. A grand total of four people who are pouring their way into Zhixiang’s apartment including not only his secretary, but two male cousins and an elderly aunt.  
  
“Ohh, wow… uhm.” Shit.  
  
They’re all Zhixiang’s colleagues, all strong opposers of Yixing’s permanent presence, and each and every one of them the bane of his existence.  
  
“You all had to come, hmm?” He asks coolly, wiping his forehead while tosses his bangs. A drop of sweat actually flies across and lands on his cousin’s coat sleeve.  
  
“Your aunt’s the notary, and your cousins must also sign this in your presence. It’s just easier to do it all at once,” says his secretary, a cool customer through thick and thin. Zhixiang notices she’s the only person who doesn’t bother looking around, up or down; of his relatives he cannot say the same.  
  
Perhaps if he puts his hands down over his crotch he won’t draw attention to his raging erection.  
  
“Uhm, Zhixiang?”  
  
“Yes, aunt?”  
  
He clears his throat when he notices which way her gaze is set. Please, please, please, let Yixing have-  
  
“Is there a reason you have a young, nude male sitting on your couch in full display of your guests?”  
  
Everything comes crashing down in that moment, just like Zhixiang always knew it would.  
  
He titters, then laughs outright. They act as if they never knew Yixing existed, a self preservation thing no doubt, but it won’t save them right now. Nothing will. Nothing will save him either. Not when he finally dares to turn his head and sees Yixing right where he left him: reclined upon the couch, one leg dangling on the ground. The other knee perched upright and his dick still curled into his abdomen. Even better, Yixing is smiling at the intruders with both hands resting behind his neck.  
  
Zhixiang stares at his lover’s armpits because right now those are the least offensive thing he can zoom into. He hopes everyone else is doing the same. They’re certainly very lovely armpits. He’s tasted them before-  
  
“Uhhhh, what are these papers you want me to sign, sorry? How about we focus on those, hm?”  
  
His aunt visibly shudders like she’s having a heart attack and his two cousins look scandalized. Fortunately they follow the snapping of his secretary’s fingers and lean against the table instead. Zhixiang borrows a single moment in time to step away from the table, grab the first random throw pillow he can find, and toss it in the direction of Yixing’s dick.  
  
It lands right where he aimed. Little victories, at least.  
  
Two minutes later, he happily shoves the intruders back out the door and turns around with a fiery gaze.  
  
“Zhang Yixing, what exactly did you mean by that!?”  
  
But Zhang Yixing, part time composer, part time writer, full time home nudist - and now Zhixiang think he should add exhibitionist to this list of titles - gives him instead a shit eating grin and holds the pillow to his crotch.  
  
He doesn’t even have to speak, but Zhixiang already knows he’s lost.  
  
“Okay, okay, I take it back. So uhm, where did we leave off?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, well then I hope you look forward to more. This is an ongoing series/present to my best fic writing friend, and no doubt she'll be demanding more. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

They didn’t start out living like this. Yixing was a young friend known to one of Zhixiang’s relatives Lu Han, one of the younger cousins who showed no aptitude for business and was actually braver than Zhixiang at disavowing the family path. Zhixiang was jealous, but also not rash. He liked his work, he was good at it, but he also didn’t want to get married to some stranger because of business connections. He wanted to date hot guys, like Yixing. They met at a club one night when Zhixiang was out with Lu Han and his friends. Ten minutes later he was buying Yixing drinks, twenty minutes later they were grinding on the dance floor, and an hour later Zhixiang was blowing Yixing in the bathroom, and they never even made it to the privacy of a stall.

Yixing had a great dick, sure, but it was more than that.

_“Are you trying to get back your twenties, Luo Zhixiang?”_ His mother scolded him more than once.

_“It’s a disgrace,”_ said his grandmother.

_“He should be getting married, not living with men!”_ said an aunt, the same aunt who got an eyeful that one time she came into his apartment (she never came back).

His cousins talked behind his back, his grandfather frowned a lot. Only his dad was vaguely sympathetic, and although he didn’t strictly endorse Zhixiang’s relationship, he didn’t forbid it outright.

“Move in with me,” Zhixiang had said a few months later.

From the way his aunt spoke, you’d think Zhixiang had lived with multiple men, and all of them at once. In truth though, Yixing was the only one ever.

He even offered Yixing his own room, terms more akin to a roommate than a lover. It just didn’t turn out that way. Yixing kept a few things in the other closet, but he made his bed with Zhixiang and he took over the housework, and when he gave up his job to work on writing music, Zhixiang persuaded him into not paying rent. He was making more than enough money, and though it gave the appearance of Yixing as a ‘kept man’, they only joked about it and Yixing promised to one day pay him back (in more than just food and sex, although right now that was just fine for an IOU).

Yixing brought him sanity, a purpose outside of work. They adopted a cat, and the thing promptly started ignoring them both except during meal times.

“This kind of how I feel, watching you go out the door to work,” Yixing tells him sadly one day after the cat marches away from its food bowl to go sleep under the couch. “I just wanted to cuddle, but he only comes out mornings and evenings.”

Zhixiang has never shared a more profound, depressing thought with another man in all his life.

“I’m glad you love me more than the cat ‘loves’ us.”

Yixing kisses him goodbye with a lot of lip and tongue and his hands tucked halfway down the back of Zhixiang’s pants. He says he’ll be here when Zhixiang gets back and to look forward to a hot meal, of what kind he doesn’t specify.  A hot meal could mean a lovely four course dinner, or it could mean Yixing himself, like that time he came home a few months ago and found his boyfriend had actually managed to tie himself up naked and chained to the bed with his ass open wide.

So that’s how it comes that every time Zhixiang brings friends over in the evening, he would first peek inside to see if Yixing is actually dressed. Sometimes he dresses modestly: boxers while he plays the piano, or a knee-length fluffy robe on the couch with a book on his lap, balcony door open wide to let in a cooler breeze.

Tonight, Zhixiang begs Lu Han and Yifan to wait while he doublechecks the scene. He’d mentioned to Yixing about them coming over, but just telling Yixing about having guests doesn’t mean his boyfriend will actually take care.

“Hold on, I just need to… see that the cat isn’t waiting to rush out…” he lies, a sweat bead of trepidation already dripping down his spine.

Lu Han of course only laughs. “Don’t worry, Yixing’s my friend and no doubt I’ve seen everything that’s possible to see.” He pushes Zhixiang aside, barging in without waiting.

There is some rustling coming from the kitchen, pots and pans banging, and Zhixiang relents and lets whatever happen. But while Zhixiang and Lu Han may be used to Yixing’s nudity, Yifan is not. Which is why the second guest, a mutual friend but not one he’s particularly close to, gasps a few seconds later and Zhixiang has to stop, close his eyes, and practice counting one to three before continuing on.

“Oh hey! You guys like fried rice, yeah?” Yixing calls cheerfully from the kitchen.

Zhixiang gets a glance of Yixing wearing a light yellow chef’s apron with even yellower rubber duckies printed on the front, a bright grin, spatula in one hand… before Yixing turns around and displays his ass for everyone to see. He’s wearing the apron tied around his waist, and absolutely nothing else.

Lu Han goes about his business like nothing’s unusual, fishing for a couple beers out of the fridge. He taps Yifan’s lower jaw a few seconds later. The sound of the man’s teeth snapping shut echoes throughout the room, and Lu Han lazily takes a hold of Yifan’s chin, directing it to check out the view from the balcony.

While they start on their beers, Zhixiang ushers Yixing into their bedroom and demands he put on pants before continuing on with dinner. At least with a pair of jeans and an apron, they can all go on pretending that everything’s normal.

Until later on, “Hey, great meal, thanks for the invite!” Lu Han tells them on the way out. “And oh by the way,” he whispers into Zhixiang’s ear, “I’m totally not going to mention that bite mark on Yixing’s ass. I’m sure he’s just really flexible all by himself”

He winks, and then is gone.

  
  
  
  
  


Alright, so Yixing and Zhixiang have an active and interesting sex life. That’s not a crime. That’s also not something Zhixiang needs to boast to their friends in order to get validation, and certainly not via showing off Yixing’s ass.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you.” He cages his boyfriend against the kitchen counter, lips nipping at Yixing’s neck because whenever he’s angry with Yixing he likes to… kiss him, a lot.

“Why, did it make you hot?” Yixing teases back, whispering in his ear.

His hands, resting on the countertop are hoisted away. Yixing teases them down and places them on the crest of his ass, bare once again as soon as their guests were gone. Zhixiang’s breath begins to speed up, his heart rate accelerating. He grounds the tips of his fingers into the fleshiest part of Yixing’s body, exploring, pulling, pressing, leaving moon-shaped nail prints near where his thighs begin.

“What’s hot? Who was hot?” He almost stutters.

There’s a swipe of Yixing’s tongue against his earlobe, and Zhixiang shivers, his whole body beginning to break down.

“You were hot,” Yixing whispers. He licks a line from his ear to the hollow of his neck. “Gotta cool you down.”

Zhixiang rubs his nose along Yixing’s neck, mouth open but not doing anything except trying to regain his composure. He slaps Yixing’s butt and relishes in the feeling of the other man’s erection coming to life. Even through the light apron and Zhixiang’s pants, there’s no mistaking that bulge.

“You don’t know what a dangerous game you’re playing, Yixing… showing yourself off to other people. You know these” - he growls, cuping the two round globes heavily in his palms - ”only belongs to me.”

Yixing’s thighs tremble for a moment, but then his muscles react, the skin tightening against Zhixiang’s fingers. He’s reminded how strong Yixing is, every part of him, legs included.

There’s a game they sometimes play, which is that Zhixiang likes to think he’s in charge. It’s a game in which he fails though, nearly every time.

“You think you’re being cute, huh?” Yixing purrs into his ear. “You think I didn’t notice you looking at me all during dinner, thinking about me, about us?”

Yixing slowly maneuvers Zhixiang around until it’s him bent over the kitchen counter, the edge pushing against his abdomen and his forearm resting in a sticky trail of leftover sauce. It happens slow and deliberate, Yixing’s control at its absolute max and Zhixiang is just putty in his hands.

“I bet you were hard the second you walked in.”

Whether he was hard then or not doesn’t matter. Zhixiang is hard now, and Yixing’s hand explores down and around to feel that. He nods, admitting whatever Yixing wants him to, because he knows from experience that any resistance means not getting what he wants. And right now he wants his pants gone.

Yixing obliges. He slips his belt from the loop and teases his fly down slowly. “Stay right where you are, and don’t move.”

Zhixiang holds still, knuckles slipping on the dirty countertop as Yixing slips his trousers and boxers down at an agonizingly prolonged pace. He’s hard as a rock by the time Yixing takes him in his hand, harder still when Yixing directs his feet apart and slides his dick in between Zhixiang’s thighs.

Yixing starts to reach for the bottle of olive oil when Zhixiang stops him with an urgent, "uh uhh, no." The end up in the bedroom anyways, Zhixiang once again balancing on his forearms, chin nestled over a pillow at the foot of the bed while Yixing lubes him up with the proper stuff and fucks his way slowly inside. Yixing is standing up. Zhixiang’s feet are on the floor, hips in the air with only his cock rubbing against the bed.

He hates how Yixing always takes his time. And by hate, Zhixiang means _he loves it._ After sitting in board room meetings or behind his desk or prowling the halls finding people to yell out, by the time he gets home he's usually ready to release it all. And Yixing taking control, leading him, satisfying him, is just the release he needs.

He loves the drag of Yixing’s cock, the burn as it stretches around his rim, the slow rocking movements when Yixing’s hips are all the way connected. His lover is silent so far, but if Zhixiang were able to see his face, he’d probably see eyes tight shut and an open mouth, Yixing savoring the connection like he always does, maybe a little bit of drool edging over his lips. Drool isn’t sexy, Zhixiang thinks, except when it’s Yixing.

“How’re you feeling, babe?” Zhixiang asks with a groan. He plants his cheek into the pillow, looking sideways, and holds it tight. The backs of his legs are starting to ache from the position, his thighs wobbling. Yixing leans him more forward and chuckles into his ear.

“I’m fine…” he teases. “How about you.” He bites daintily on the lower shell of Zhixiang’s ear, a soft exhale as he laughs, as if they’re just laying around right now innocent as you please. As if Yixing isn’t holding back an impending orgasm, because he’s just that cool. Zhixiang can feel it, how Yixing trembles and fights it. His thighs are damp where their skin meets, and Zhixiang is so, so very hard, but without touching himself, without forcing Yixing to truly break him in, he could be like this a while.

“Fuck, shit, Yixing, just do it,” he pants. It’s exhausting, hunched over like this. It’s exhausting, coming home after a long day at work to see his boyfriend’s ass, it’s exhausting having to feel like he should be dropping the thermostat during dinner so he doesn’t get the sudden urge to wipe that smirk off Yixing’s face and just take him on the table while their two friends watch.

Yixing pulls out, his thick cockhead resting right inside his rim. Zhixiang braces himself for the slam. Yixing used to be a dancer, he’s got serious power behind those thrusts. And usually, after all this time practicing, he’s got killer aim.

Zhixiang whines, waiting for the attack, ready to feel that assault on his prostate which Yixing is so good at reaching. But the thrust never comes. Yixing just hangs there, not moving. His fingers massage Zhixiang’s waist, but his hips never dip down. Zhixiang’s heart beats fast, the clock ticks on. There are probably birds singing their nightly lullabies as they fly through the night past their upper story window, but Zhixiang hears none of it. He’s waiting, hanging onto the edge of space, every sense honed in for-

“Ahhhh!!”

Zhixiang’s breath explodes.

“AAGHHSDHH!” he practically screams.

His entire existence becomes one wailing mess, tears trailing down his cheeks as Yixing rams him again and again and again…

_WHAMM!_ Yixing sinks in and holds it. “Show Luooo,” he pants. Then out, then _WHOOSHHH!_ while Zhixiang cries again. “Show Luo, you’ll wake the neighbors.”

Yixing laughs, but his hips never falter. Zhixiang could care less about the neighbors right now. If there was a fire, he wouldn’t care- okay, maybe he would, just a little, but- he buries his mouth into the pillow and sobs it out instead, body aching, torturous racks of pain and pleasure, he’s not sure which, and Yixing just keeps fucking and fucking until the slick slick sounds of lube and sweat and come, and his heavy breath, and Zhixiang’s gasping sobs are the only sounds in the world. Until there is nothing at all. When he comes, it's only the last step, like he's been running off a mountaintop and now finally he's falling. It's exhilarating, frightening and just, fucking amazing... falling... 

He comes to moments later. He hasn’t moved, he’s still bent forward over the bed. Gravity is pulling his knees down, and it’s only Yixing’s heavy body on top that keeps him from sinking to the floor, like a bug that just went splat on the wall. Actually, that's kind of how he feels right now. 

"Best... splat... ever..." 

Yixing leans down and murmers questioningly in his ear. "Hmm?"

“Babe,” Zhixiang pants. “Babe that was so good-”

“Shhhh, don’t talk. Let’s get you… up.”

Zhixiang is vaguely aware of Yixing wrapping strong arms around his waist and dragging him further onto the bed. He crumbles and curls around a pillow, eyes blissed out and slightly cold. But then Yixing crawls up behind him. Zhixiang may be larger, but he enjoys being the little spoon.

“Yixing…” He breathes one last time.

“What?”

“Yixing, your ass is still mine. Don’t you ever go around showing to other people, not even Lu Han, I don’t care how many times he’s seen you naked, okaaay?”

Yixing laughs, but it’s softer now. “Okay…” Then, after a moment of silence, “does that mean I can show off yours instead?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the crack smut, it's all I can seem to write for this couple. There will be one more scene coming soon. Prepare yourselves for some office sex!


	3. Chapter 3

"Pull down your pants, take a seat... you wanna?"

Luo Zhixiang gulps loudly and licks his lips. What a question, what a glorious, delicious question. One in which he wouldn't hesitate a second to reply. Yixing is sitting before him, fingers teasingly pulling at his own zipper, and he's wearing black pants today- glorious black pants and a white button-up and a suit jacket and fuck- he's wearing a tie. It's not often that Zhang Yixing gets all dressed up and actually leaves their apartment. Sure, he probably does get out all the time, but rarely when Zhixiang is around to appreciate it. And rare, all so rarely, does he see Yixing materialize through his office door on the fifty-first level of his workplace, smirk firmly set in place below an otherwise innocent pair of eyes. Only about two minutes ago did Yixing glide through Zhixiang’s office door, lock the door behind him and ask if Zhixiang wants to get naked and suck his dick.

So that's the reason he hesitates.

They're at work. Zhixiang's work. And Yixing just waltzed in here before dozens and dozens of prying eyes, most of which know to whom Yixing belongs. He can't believe his secretary didn't warn him. Maybe she didn't have time. Maybe she hates Zhixiang's guts and/or he looked so stressed today that a quickie behind closed doors and mostly shut mini blinds are just what the doctor ordered.

"What's... the occasion?" he asks, looking up at his lover.

Yixing is perched on the edge of his desk. Zhixiang hasn't even left his own chair, which means he's sitting between Yixing's open legs and staring right at the bulge forming in those oh so nice, tight black slacks. Dick obsession aside, he knows there's something up. It's not every day that Yixing visits him like this with a tense but excited expression. Something good must have happened. Something so good he thinks he's owed a reward.

Yixing's smile unfolds like a bloom, eyes twinkling and for a second Zhixiang considers standing up and just kissing him silly.

"My compositions have been excepted. The publishers want to print them all alongside a series collection."

Zhixiang beams. "Really!"

"Really." Yixing blushes, but then he bites his lower lip and with the tip of his shoe nudges Zhixiang's ankle aside. "Aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"Anything you want, baby. Anything you want."

So really, screw the people sitting outside. Zhixiang’s high enough on the totem pole that he can be allowed five minutes to himself. Maybe ten. However long it takes to actually start moving after Yixing oh so casually unzip his pants and reveals his pretty, pretty cock. It’s very easy to become mesmerized to the point of inaction.

“Uh uh…” Yixing scolds, when Zhixiang makes to suck it, no questions asked. “Your pants first.”

And oh, right. Back to that first proposition. The one that says Yixing wants a reward, but he also wants Zhixiang helpless and naked too. Zhixiang stands up quickly and deposits his slacks and boxers by his ankles, shoes off as well because they're too much of a hindrance. His hands quaver, his breath catches. Yixing watches him work with his hardening cock between his hands, as if this is a normal request and they do it all the time.

They don’t. Well, not all the time…

The cold of Zhixiang’s leather chair welcomes his bare ass when he plops back down. He seethes. This could get messy, and that’s actually the point. It keeps Zhixiang grounded, a reminder that he can’t run out, that he can’t let anyone in. Yixing just wants Zhixiang’s dick to suffer, out in the open, alone, while Zhixiang pleasures him. Then maybe later, Yixing can return him in turn. 

“That’s good. Now,” says Yixing, and this time he holds his cock and offers it out. Two fingers catch the inside of Zhixiang’s cheek and draw his lips towards him. His chair squeaks as it closes in, tongue reaching out, seeking it… craving it.

Yixing groans. It’s loud, it’s lewd, it can probably be heard from the other side of the walls. Somewhere deep down Zhixiang cares that other people might hear. But right this minute…? Nah. Not when when the taste of Yixing’s cock is all he needs. Not when the weight of it slipping past his slick lips is nearly overpowering.

Ask Zhixiang ten years ago if he ever pictured himself like this. Ask him five years ago, ask him one hour before he met the glorious individual who would become his lover if Zhixiang had ever imagined himself indulging someone else like this. There’s a lovely submission in giving himself away. Yixing is his treasure, his beloved.

Also, his cock happens to be delicious.

Long, dainty hands wrap around either side of Zhixiang’s ears. He moans, whines at the obstruction, and his body is leaning forward at such an odd angle. It strains his lower back, but Yixing’s knees rest on either side of his shoulders and with the added incentive to ‘not move a freakin’ muscle’, there’s nothing else left to it except to suck.

The back of his throat almost rebels, the tip of Yixing’s length testing his gag reflexes.

“Relax,” says his lover though, and Zhixiang does. He blinks through his tears, opens his throat wide and lets the other man use him, thrust into him, yanking his head closer when it suits him. Sometimes he rests and for a few seconds Zhixiang can breathe the delightful air. Yixing brushes his sweaty bangs back from his forehead, using his tie to wipe his brow and whisper encouraging words before slipping the whole of his cock back into Zhixiang’s pliant mouth, balls nudging not so gently against his chin.

“Show Lou…..” Yixing whines, the pet name slipping off his tongue while his thighs quiver and tense. Zhixiang winds his arms up around the outside of Yixing’s legs, holding on for dear life. His fingers flail against the soft cloth of his pants, slip away, and he grasps again. He’s sinking, about to lose his mind. His own cock is untouched and rigid, but Yixing is about to come down his throat and Zhixiang is nowhere close to finishing. Instead, he gasps and cries, Yixing’s beautiful cock rocking an uneven pace past his lips, and it burns. It’s almost too much. Zhixiang doesn’t know even where he ends and Yixing’s cock begins. He tries again to hold onto Yixing’s legs, but suddenly the man pulls out. His cock springs quickly towards his clothed abdomen, one long train of saliva breaking halfway, and there’s a squirt of precome on Zhixiang’s tongue that makes him gag. Yixing shoves him back and Zhixiang lands with a thud against the chair back. His cock bounces angrily, he gasps for air, and his eyes are a total wreck, blinded with tears. His lips are numb. He hasn’t even the energy to touch himself, meanwhile Yixing is slipping off the side of the desk, one hard, angry, reddened cock in his hand.

“Open your mouth,” he says, and this time Yixing climbs onto the chair itself, his knees caging Zhixiang’s bare thighs.

Zhixiang barely obeys the command before a long stream of warm come shoots across his face. It lands across his nose, flecks brushing his cheeks, and another gush lands across his eyebrows and then lower until it's leaking down into his open mouth. Yixing pants deliciously above him, painting Zhixiang’s face and he only stops when there's nothing left to milk.

Now this is the life. This is how Yixing likes him to look. This is why he came all the way across town to share his good news, so he could smile down at Zhixiang, and Zhixiang is just as pleased and proud to be the person Yixing runs to tell. Even if he feels used and dirty and still so totally on edge.

Yixing has climbed away and zipped up his pants before Zhixiang has even had a chance to move. He wipes his face, hand coming away sticky and he shudders, but his dick is still hard when he glances down and Yixing doesn't seem like he's going to do anything about it.

"Uhhhm?" Zhixiang gapes. But Yixing only smiles broadly. He swoops down one last time, for half a minute does nothing but kiss Zhixiang's messy, reddened, come-splattered lips. Their tongues meet, a delicate collision, and warm. 

But then, "Gotta run now, sorry." Yixing grins, and suddenly there's an evil expression gracing his lips.

"What?!" shrieks Zhixiang, astounded. "But-"

"Clock's ticking. Got another appointment soon. See you at home, babe, and I'll make it up to you, promise!"

The little bastard. Zhixiang can't believe it. After all that, now it feels like someone dumped a bucket of ice cold sludge over his head. He tries to stand up, but Yixing is already backing away with a smarmy glint in his eyes, and the hem of Zhixiang's pants between his fingers. He tugs and Zhixiang falls flat on his ass once again, dumbfounded when he realizes Yixing is walking away... and he's carrying Zhixiang's pants with him.

"Zhang Yixing get back here right this instant!" he cries.

Yixing's hand caresses the doorknob, switching the lock to unlock, and starts to open it.

"Yixing! Don't you-!"

He gets up again to chase before remembering his state of undress. He's wearing just a shirt and socks, but his ass is hanging wide open, his dick probes the air and there's come on his face. Damnit, this is why Yixing wanted him like this-

"Bye, love. See you later." Yixing winks and wrenches open the door.

"Zhang Yixing, don't you dare walk away! Yixing! I'm going to fuck you so hard later, oh you're going to regret this! Ohh, shit...." Zhixiang immediately sits down when he recognizes several of his co-works standing right outside the door with wide, shocked eyes, and only the back of Yixing as his lover strides away, Zhixiang's pants flung haughtily over his shoulder. A few papers fly off the stack of files between their arms. Silence hangs in the air. The whole room reeks of humiliation. 

Zhixiang buries his face in his hands and fumes. Oh Yixing, Yixing, Yixing... he's so going to get it later...

But to his underlings outside the door he just waves an unsteady hand, beckoning them to hurry up and leave. "Oh, and uhm..." he calls out last minute. "Would you mind calling my secretary here? I'm going to need a new pair of pa- oh, you know what, never mind." He needs a few minutes more to suffer this one out. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Well that was a fun, embarrassing ride. Thank you everyone for reading! I'm just going to climb into a hole now and die of mortification. xD


End file.
